Shorty
by Nell McKeon
Summary: Amnesty Days/Series Timeline - Written for the challenge prompt short/back up plan. Heyes is on the brink of letting a long suppressed anger overrule his good sense. Can the Kid change the course of his partner's plans?


**Shorty**

Another Saturday night in another nondescript saloon located in a no account western town on the dusty plains spent playing poker. Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were playing at the same table along with an amiable bunch of men from town and the surrounding farms. Heyes was, as usual, up the most but the Kid and a genial, plump, red faced farmer with a German accent by the name of Karl Maier, who was turning out to be a heck of a poker player, were giving Heyes a run for his money. Hannibal Heyes was relaxed and enjoying the friendly rivalry to reap the rewards from the skillful playing of cards.

The saloon was packed with patrons but not raucous and while his partner concentrated on the cards, Curry kept one eye on the crowd, out of necessity and habit. They, of course, had run through their ritual of checking the town out, the sheriff was fat and lazy, and finding no reason to move on they decided to stay for a few nights on their way down to Red Rock.

The Kid suddenly sensed frisson in the air and flicked his eyes up from the cards in his hand, settling them on his partner seated across from him. Heyes had sat straight up, his hand of pasteboards placed down firmly on the table as his right hand drifted down to the holster tied tightly along his hip. Curry was taken aback at the atypical behavior and to recognize unbridled hatred in those dark eyes, which were staring intensely towards the saloon's entrance.

"Call, I'll take two." Heyes continued to play mechanically, his attention diverted to front of the saloon.

"Fold," The Kid announced as he threw his cards down. The two pairs he held weren't as important as the level of unease and threat his partner was telegraphing, at least to Curry. The rest of the poker players were ignorant of any imminent problem. The blond sighed to himself as he fleetingly wondered if he would ever be able to sit blissfully at ease in a crowd. But such wistful wonderings didn't prevent a thorough scrutiny of the surroundings. What changed? There was a small group that had entered and were now melting into the lines of men bellying up to the long, battered bar.

The recent arrivals consisted of four men, or was that three men and one boy? It was hard to tell from the back as one was considerably shorter than the rest, only about five foot two, the Kid estimated. Nope, it was four men as Curry got a brief glimpse of the shortest of the group when he latched on to a tall buxom blonde. The Kid smiled, the short guy's face was strategically level with the girl's considerable assets, but the smile faded when he got a better look at the hard-bitten face of the stranger. This was a man, as old or older than Heyes, he would guess, who had a chip on his shoulder and didn't care who knew it.

"I've had enough for now, fellas. Thanks for the game." Heyes stood up, gathered his winnings quickly, and without a backwards glance at his partner, strode though the densest part of the crowd, leaving the saloon.

Curry made his excuses and followed his silent friend out of the saloon, down the street, and all the way up to their hotel room.

"You mind telling me what just happened? What or who wound you up tighter than that pocket watch you carry?' Kid closed, locked, then leaned against the door

"Nothing happened. I got tired of playing poker," Heyes stated with a straight face, going over to his saddle bags that were laid neatly on top of the dresser. He rummaged around in his bags, and not immediately finding what he was looking for, started methodically emptying the contents onto the closest bed.

A sandy eyebrow raised. "Looking for something in particular?"

Heyes ignored the question while he retrieved his partner's saddlebags, which were thrown in the far corner of the room. He proceeded to dump the contents on the second bed. Brown eyes searched the items on the faded quilt before long slender fingers plucked the required items from the jumbled mass of the Kid's possessions. Heyes, a picture of controlled, purposeful fury, calmly withdrew his revolver from its holster and deliberately laid it on the table under the window, right next the gun cleaning supplies he placed there moments ago.

The Kids brows drew into a worried V, as his resolve for patience dissolved into growing unease tinged with a vague sense of fear.

Heyes sat the table and started to disassemble his sidearm.

"What are you doin'?"

"What's it look like?"

"You're gonna clean your gun?"

"Yep."

"Now?"

"No, next week. What are you blind or stupid? Of course, I'm doing it now if I'm taking it apart. It wouldn't do me much good to take it apart and then put it back together without cleaning it, now would it?"

Kid Curry took a deep breath and worked hard at keeping his cool in the face of one of Heyes' mean moods out of nowhere. He pushed off from the hotel room door and crossed to stand over his partner at the small table.

"Why are you cleanin' your gun now?"

"You always tell me that a clean gun is necessary for reliability, speed and accuracy."

"That's true." The gunman nodded then probed further, "You plan on using it anytime soon? Did you recognize some one in the saloon? Is that it? Is one of those last four fellas someone you know? A lawman or a bounty hunter? Should we get packin' and leave quiet like? Do you think they noticed you?" He drew back the curtain and peered out at the street, seeing only normal activity for the time of night.

Heyes continued to methodically arrange the materials needed to accomplish his task in the precise order he would need them. He didn't once glance up at the Kid nor did he give any indication of willingness to satisfy his partner's anxious curiosity.

"Heyes!"

"What?"

"Jeez, will you answer me? Don't make me pull information out of you a little bit at a time. I'd like to be prepared for whatever you think is gonna happen." Kid didn't manage to keep the exasperation out of his voice but he was proud that he remained calm and reasonable.

The older man heaved an exaggerated sigh of annoyance while he cast a dark look up at the hovering blond.

"Alright, you're sure you want me to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I recognized someone in the last group of men that came into the saloon."

"I figured as much. But who and how do you know them?"

"The short fella, and no, he's not a lawman or a bounty hunter. In fact, he's wanted himself, although he's strictly small time, nothing like the rewards on us."

Heyes turned in his chair and stared out the window, hiding his face from his best friend.

"Go on," Curry prompted.

"I once pulled a con with him right after we split up all those years ago, him, Long Bill Janson, and Erle Dudley."

"So, did something happen?"

"Yeah, you could say that?"

"I'm askin' if you're sayin' that. What did Shorty do that has you like this after all this time?"

Heyes continued to stare out the window in the direction of the saloon. His voice hardened and dropped into his deepest register. He started to recite with repressed emotion vibrating though the unnaturally flat delivery.

"After you left I hooked up with Long Bill and Erle, and our little three-man gang pulled a few routine robberies, didn't net us much but enough to keep going. Then a perfect situation came up for one of Soapy's cons but we needed someone young looking to make it work. You weren't around no more and I recruited Shorty. If you didn't look too hard and with the right clothes and expectations he would do. The con worked and we wound up with $12, 673 to divide among the four of us. I'll bet it was the most Shorty ever got on a job. We were up in high mountain country when Shorty pulled a fast one on us, let loose or stole our horses, took the take, and took our supplies. An early snowstorm blew in when we were walking down the mountain towards civilization. Erle didn't make it, he froze to death of exposure."

Heyes involuntary glanced up at Curry and found worried sympathetic eyes watching him carefully. He quickly turned his attention to the table before him and a solution.

"Long Bill and I never did catch up with Shorty. We figured we needed a bigger, stronger gang and joined Jim Plummer's outfit. You know what happened with that move."

Curry nodded and kept his voice neutral, "Yep, I do. I'm sure there's a lot more to this story. Are you gonna fill in some blanks?"

"I've told you all you need to know."

"Not by half, partner, not by half. So, what are you plannin' on doin', if anything?"

"I'm cleaning my gun. I'm going back down to that saloon and I'm going shoot Shorty dead in a gun fight."

"WHAT!"

"Shorty's gonna pay for Erle's death. I can beat him, he's not that fast, I just gotta aim a little lower than I normally would, that's all."

The Kid's eye's widened in frank disbelief and it took a moment for him to find his tongue. "Besides the fact that will shoot our amnesty all to s**t, there's a good chance you'll swing for murder. No, you ain't goin' nowhere."

"I'm Hannibal Heyes, haven't you heard, I'm a master manipulator. I can manipulate Shorty into challenging me. It'll be self-defense."

"I've also heard that Hannibal Heyes is a genius planner. If that's a plan at all, it's about as far from genius as you could get. It is a dumb, stupid plan for a fool, and you're not a fool."

Heyes stood up right in his friend's face. "Are you a fool, Kid? 'Cause I seem to recall that plan crossed your mind in Matherville."

Blue eyes narrowed in growing anger and if Curry were honest, genuine panic that he wouldn't have the words to talk Heyes out of this self-destructive idiocy in time. His fists started to clench unconsciously. "I never claimed to be the smart partner that does the thinkin'. That's you, as you remind me often enough. You ain't thinking right. You can't do this."

"I can. You stay up here. There is no reason for you to get involved. Better yet, go spend some time with a girl for an alibi, just in case."

"Are you crazy! You can't! I won't let you do this. And you're definitely crazy if you think I can spend time with a dove while my best friend and partner is doing his best to get his fool self killed one way or another. Heyes, even if it works out the way you want, shootin' Shorty this way will surely kill you, only slow and you won't even realize it until it's too late." Kid unclenched his fists and backed up few steps in a conscious effort to keep from flattening his cousin. He backed up some more steps to block the hotel room door.

Heyes followed the Kid but some part of his rational mind kept him just beyond arm's length of the agitated blond.

"I'm cunning enough to get Shorty right where I need him and I can talk rings around that lazy sheriff. The only one going down is that s.o.b that left the three of us to die up that miserable mountain. I can handle this just fine. You can't stop me, so why're you trying. You should understand."

"Because you can't handle it! You do this… this thing… kill a man in anger, you'll unleash something dark and dangerous. You'll never be able to corral it again and it'll destroy you in the end. I'm not telling you anything new. You've always known this about yourself. I know what it takes, partner, to be able to live with a marked soul and you don't have it in you to make peace with yourself. Heyes, I'm asking you…I'll beg if you make me, please, take the time to think this through. It's not like you to go off half-cocked without a solid plan. This isn't your kind of justice or revenge. Revenge is a dish best served cold, isn't that what you always say?"

"It's cold, alright, about a decade cold."

"Nope, right now, for you, this revenge is hot, real hot, and you ain't thinkin' like Hannibal Heyes. In fact, I don't think you're thinkin' at all."

"You should know how it feels. After all, you hunted down and killed Danny, for the same kinda thing," Heyes spit out viciously, looking Kid right in the eyes.

Curry's eyes narrowed, his right hand unconsciously dropped to his gun butt, and he stepped in close to Heyes. "That's right partner, I did. And that's why if you are truly set on doin' this. If you really want the guy dead, and I can't talk you out of it, I'll do the shooting."

"You have a mistaken idea that I need you to fight my battles. You're wrong, dead wrong. I can get my own justice." Heyes roughly pushed the Kid out of his way and stalked over to the table where his Schofield was in pieces. Heyes shook his head in disgust. His voice shook with self-loathing, "I wanted Danny dead and I put him in that street. I wasn't fast enough to face Danny. But no more. I gave up the hunt for Shorty too soon, but now that I've found him, Shorty's gonna find out he played the wrong man. I know he's a coward and the worst kind of thief that stole our horses and our hard-earned take and left us up on top of that mountain to freeze to death in a snowstorm. He's gonna face me man to man for Erle's death.

Kid, staggered back, regained his balance, and erupted, "Oh, for the love of…Heyes, you didn't push smilin' Danny into the street. Bilson was gonna end up in that street no matter what, let it go. And I know you can fight your own battles. I know very well what you're capable of. But did you ever think that maybe I stand up against another man not because you can't but because I need you not to. Damn it! One killer in the family is enough, Heyes and THAT'S ME!" The trigger finger of the Fastest Gun in the West pointed squarely in the middle of his heaving chest.

"Yell a little louder, why don't ya. Let the whole hotel hear. You feel like welcoming the sheriff that's gonna be pounding on the door any minute now?" Heyes shot back with a quiet venomous intensity. The words of his partner's last statement finally sunk in through the intense, long-held rage and brought Heyes up short. "What? What are you talking about? You're not a killer, Kid."

Curry's shoulders dropped from a confrontational stance and he turned around to face the mirror over the dresser, staring calmly at his reflection.

"We've been over this territory before and whether it's called self-defense, revenge, or justice, I have killed and not just Danny. You and I know this. And maybe more importantly if there is a God, he knows it too."

Heyes' ire rapidly slid from a full-on boil to simmering as he grabbed Curry by the upper arm and yanked him around so they were face to face. He looked at his friend, really looked at him, trying to bore into that mind through unreadable blue eyes. The Kid shook himself free and leaned back against the dresser, arms crossed tightly in front of him.

"You see, Heyes, the way I figure it, if there is a hereafter, I know which way I'm headed. The thing is, I don't want you going down there with me. You're gonna have to use that silver tongue with Saint Peter at those pearly gates to get into heaven. I need you to face our folks. You're gonna have to explain, and I don't mean excuses. I don't think there are any excuses God, or our folks, would believe that are good enough for some of the things I've done but you can get them to at least understand maybe the why. Tell them I know they're ashamed of me and I'm sorry…"

"Kid?" Heyes didn't know what to say. He did know that Curry had hit on the one argument he didn't have a ready response to. And worse yet, Heyes knew, without a doubt, that the Kid had spoken straight from his heart, without conscious thought on to how to manipulate him.

The shaggy brown head of the reforming outlaw shook slowly as he ruminated on how the hell did an argument on what Heyes had planned turn into a philosophical discussion on divine final judgment? Where was the Kid getting these ideas, and did he really believe he was going to spend an eternity in hell? Without Heyes? My God, what did I ever do for him to have that kind of faith in me to be able to square our pasts, as it stood now, with our folks? Heyes wasn't sure he believed in heaven or hell. Hell on earth, yes, he believed in that but an afterlife, he wouldn't take that bet.

The simmering anger drained away, leaving a heavy weariness in its place as Heyes sank to sit on the bed. "Alright, you won't have to beg. Neither one of us is a killer at heart. But get this through your thick skull, we are in this together, this life and the afterlife, if there is one, so no more talk of separating, ever, nothing good seems to come of that. You're going to be right beside me at those pearly gates."

Kid uncrossed his arms. He stared uncertainly at his partner, nodded once before sitting down alongside Heyes. "Well then, you're gonna have come up with a back up plan if you want to get back at Shorty a better way."

"I guess I am. And by the way, Shorty's name is Everest Grant Langer Tallman, III." Heyes' tense facial muscles relaxed into a reluctant half grin has he watched his best friend and partner break into laughter, repeating the name.


End file.
